Mage's Escape
by Musicalrain
Summary: Kinkmeme fill for: Hawke sides with the mages, because of her sister. Then they are on the run. How does Bethany feel about this? Guilt, angst and drama please! - Lots of romance tangles: Past CullenxBethany mentions. Slight F!HawkexIsabela. Past F!HawkexFenris mentions. Hints at Bethris. **Now with bonus Bethris chapter! Bonus chapter rated M for adult content.
1. Chapter 1

Mage's Escape

Kinkmeme fill for: Bethany's POV

Hawke sides with the mages, because of her sister. Then they are on the run. How does Bethany feel about this? Guilt, angst and drama please!

If you want to include a romance I would love it if it was Beth/Fenris or Beth/Cullen.

…...

I lean against a crate and look out at the crystalline deep blue water. It took me a few days to gain my sea-legs, but now seeing the waving waters cresting on the dark wood of the hull brings me comfort. _The __Siren's __Call __II_ really is a beautiful ship, and I can see why Isabela treats it like her child. She cares about it and loves the open waters.

I feel myself frown as I remember the other object of the pirate wench's affection, my _sister_. It's been almost a week since our escape from Kirkwall, and I can't still quite understand or _want _to understand what happened there, in the Gallows.

_Why __did __Marian __defy __Meredith? _There were rumors, there's always rumors in the Circle, that Marian worked with Meredith in the past, that she'd aided the Templars many times before. Then why did it change there, when it mattered? Why did she risk everyone's safety to fight against the one woman who held the city in her lyrium-stained palm?

"Because of you." My eyes widen as I hear a deep, rumbling voice reply to my internal wonderings. Well, I thought they were internal, but I must have said the last out-loud.

I turn around and come to be eye-to-eye, or well just about, with the piercing forest-green gaze of the elf, Fenris. I didn't know him for long before I went to the Circle, but I remember the looks he'd send me, Merrill and Anders from time-to-time. I feel my frown deepen. I don't want to talk to him, and least of all about Marian or my feelings.

"How would you know what my sister was thinking?" I snap at him in reply.

He seems to ignore my temper and says, "I saw the way she looked at you just before she claimed allegiance with the mages." He snorts, "She does not hide her emotions well for a rogue."

I frown more. I always thought her far too sincere for an archer, but to hear the elf talk about my sister in such a way adds more fire to my temper. "Be careful how you speak of Marian," I snap yet again. A distant part of my mind says that the Gallows have changed me. But I try to ignore it. I know I was more docile around the other... _residents_... of the Circle, but my anger had been slowly building – and in the wake of my former home's destruction, I can no longer rein it in, as it seems.

This time he frowns, "I meant no disrespect to your sister, mage."

"Mage?" I laugh bitterly. "That's all you see me as, isn't it?"

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms at me. For some reason I get the feeling of being treated as a disrespectful child being addressed by someone older and wiser, and not wanting their wisdom. Perhaps that's what's really happening, since I do not know how old the elf is, and time has always been... gentler with elves. Perhaps he is even wiser than Marian. I snort aloud at my own thoughts. _Marian wouldn't like that_, I think.

He continues and ignores my odd behavior, "I always thought you different than the others." I get the feeling that he may not only be talking about Anders and Merrill. "Perhaps I was wrong."

…...

It's the next morning, and I'm back to staring holes into the rocking waves of the open waters. My mood isn't much better, I acknowledge, but I can't seem to come out of this angry, well, _mess_ I feel I'm in. I can't very well describe it, but I know it's no good. _Mother would know what to do_. My eyes slip closed at her memory. Mother always knew what to say to make me feel better, to make me see the err of my ways or thinking. I miss her. I miss her so very much.

"Your mood seems to change as much as this damnable ocean." I hear a deep voice rumble, and am not all too surprised to see Fenris standing before me again.

I sniffle and wipe at the corners of my eyes where tears have welled. "My sister really chose the mages because of me?" I ask. I've been able to think of little else all night, other than the thoughts of Mother assaulting me at such seemingly random times.

He nods once, but anything he was to say is interrupted by the sounds of giggling – the kind more reserved for young girls. We turn our heads towards its source, and I see Isabela slapping the backside of my sister. I sigh, shake my head, and turn out towards the open waters again.

_I miss Cullen_, I realize. His absence isn't probably helping anything, we have been together for years. We _were_ together for years, I correct myself, but won't let my anger tarnish my thoughts of him. And _oh_ my thoughts of him. His clear, hopeful eyes. His curly hair as soft as down. His strong, broad shoulders. The chiseled planes of his chest. The pearly-white scars that line his left side all the way down to the dip of his hipbone. I clear my throat and my thoughts, before they wander to the parts of his anatomy that will have me embarrass myself in front of Fenris.

"Your thoughts are elsewhere today," I hear the elf say, and am reminded of his penchant for stating the obvious.

I sigh, "Yes."

I see him hesitate for a moment before he asks, "May I ask where?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. It might help to talk to someone actually. Talking to Fenris probably wouldn't be the worst idea I've ever had. "Cullen," I murmur quietly. I look at the elf out of the corner of my eye and see that he's raised one dark brow at me, and suddenly I'm spilling my guts out to the brooding warrior. "I thought he was handsome," I blurt. "And, well... err... and well, we became _close_." I rub a palm down the side of my face, "He was one of the few things that I looked forward to in the Circle. He... he had been close to another mage before. Our... our cousin. You know the one... And, ah, well I guess I miss him." I shake my head. "I miss him a lot," I admit and sigh. "We knew nothing could become of it. We knew it would have to end someday... But... Just the way it ended. How _everything_ ended... I don't know. I don't know why he stayed behind. He could have come. It just seems so wrong. So very wrong."

I look at Fenris, hoping to the Maker that he understands. I need someone to understand. I need someone to help me. I feel so wrong. So angry. So sad. So confused. My thoughts are confusing. They go from one thing to the next. One tragedy to the next. I don't know anymore.

"I have felt similar things before," Fenris admits with a face he usually reserves for the smell of fish.

"What did you do?" I ask genuinely curious. My curiosity pacifying my crazed thoughts for the moment.

"I drank. A lot." He gives me a strange look, crosses his arms, and paces a few steps forward and then returns to my side.

I see the hurt in his stance. In his face. Even in the little lines on the outer edges of his lips. In the wake of his pain, my pain fades, and I reach out to him. He doesn't flinch like I thought he would. And when my hand rests just above his elbow, I feel a wall breaking, but I don't know if it's his or mine. Maybe both.

"Who?" I whisper to him with the tenderness of who I once was surfacing once again.

"Hawke," he says almost too quiet for me to hear.

My mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, and he bends his head to hide behind the curtain of his hair. I realize just a moment before he starts speaking again, that he must trust me. "I... left her. Three years ago. It was... It was the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it had to be done."

I feel myself involuntarily shuffle closer to him. My hand tightens just a little on his arm, and I try to ask gently, "Why?"

He lifts his head, his green eyes bore into mine, and he says with a ferocity of a caged animal finally being let loose after years of capture, "I was not free. Danarius still hunted me. A slave cannot have something like that. I would have hurt her had I stayed."

I'm shocked and blink in rapid succession. _He's right_, I realize. He speaks the truth of the matter. And they way he said it, it must have been a burden he'd been wanting to shed for some time. "You're free now," I say, and do not know if it is a statement or a question. He nods once, just slightly. "Is that why you stayed?" He tilts his head a little, his confusion evident on his face. I clarify, "Is that why you stayed then, at the Gallows? Is that why you stayed even though she has... another?"

He bows his head behind his hair once again, and instead of answering my question, he amends one of his prior statements, "You are different than the others." He takes a step back and raises his head. Whatever expression he had hidden is now gone. "I suspect my reason is the same as your Templar's. Why he stayed."

The elf leaves my side, and my mouth is hanging open again. My mind is a confusing storm of thoughts and I struggle for clarity. Why did Cullen stay behind? Why did Fenris stay beside Marian?

…...

I'm not able to focus much for the rest of the day. Things go by in a blur. I heal a sod's rope burns, I try to have a conversation with Merrill, and I eat my meals in relative silence. Now that I know the reason why Marian chose to protect the mages, because of me, I find myself at a loss for everyone else's reasons. Were they all so loyal to my sister?

Isabela's reason is easy, as it's obvious to see that she loves my sister and would do anything in her power for her. Aveline, bless her and Donnic for staying in Kirkwall, is like our older sister and would always do her best to keep her people alive. Varric is one of our oldest friends, although he probably stayed for the story. Merrill would be lost without Marian's guidance. Anders would be dead if she didn't tell him to flee. And the other man, one who I'd only met once before – Sebastian, I think his name was – was just wrong. What he said, what he did, was wrong.

My mind goes back to Fenris and Cullen. Cullen, he, well, we loved each other. And that man's loyalty... I know he's doing his damnedest to make sure the madness is stopped. And we said our goodbyes. We knew it had to end, but I had hoped it wouldn't.

Fenris now, he had said his reasons were the same as Cullen's. Did he stay beside Marian for love? Or loyalty? I feel as though I _have _to know. That elf... Something happened between us. I'm not sure what exactly, but it was powerful whatever it was.

I go in search of him. I need to speak to Fenris, so I walk in the direction of his closet-sized cabin. All the private rooms aboard are closet-sized, except for the captain's quarters, but Isabela tried to make things easier for us, and gifted us even this modest luxury.

I knock on his door and hear a gruff, "Yes?" in answer. "It's Bethany," I say and try to keep my voice down so I won't disturb anyone else.

I hear shuffling and the sound of something moving, "You may enter."

I open the door, and it is dim. As my eyes focus and I close the door, I notice the faint illumination of his lyrium tattoos that beat in time with his heart. Their glow is hardly noticeable in the daylight. And I wonder if they glow all the time, or if their glow is indicative of the slight irritation that is on his face.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," I say, and my gaze goes to the bottle of lemon and cinnamon infused rum in his grasp, "But I wanted to talk?" I phrase it as a question.

He nods and gestures to the foot of his bed, and he rises further up to rest his back against the wall. There are no other seats in these cabins.

I carefully sit on the bed's edge and fold my fingers together in my lap. "Did you..." I clear my throat and start again, "Did you say with Marian for... for love? Or loyalty?"

He takes a pull from his rum and sighs heavily. He doesn't meet my eyes as he says, "If things were... different, I may have claimed love." He raises his eyes and meets my gaze tentatively, "Though now it... I am loyal to Hawke. I owe her much. My freedom. My life. I am bound to her. But not... She is my friend. I would not see her harmed."

I frown as I hear his answer, and stare at my hands in my lap. He thinks he's said something wrong. "Have I... not answered satisfactorily?"

I shake my head at him, "You had said that you and Cullen shared the same reasons for your actions at the Gallows..." I trail off and am silent for a moment. He doesn't interrupt the quiet, and I begin again after a short time. "He chose his loyalty to the Templars over his love for me," I say in a quiet voice.

I see Fenris frown out of the corner of my eye, "I said I _suspected_ our reasons were the same. He could have chosen to stay to protect you."

I shake my head again, and turn my focus towards the elf, "Don't try to change what you said. It's all true." My hands unfurl in my lap, and slowly curl into fists as I continue. "My sister chose to protect me. My sister chose her love for me over her loyalty to Kirkwall. But not Cullen. Not the man that claimed to love me..." I trail off again.

The silence stretches for some time, and I take a deep pull of the rum when Fenris offers the bottle to me. I don't usually drink much alcohol, a drunk apostate isn't necessarily a smart thing, and so the searing burn of it shocks me. I take another drink and it doesn't burn as much.

When Fenris takes the bottle back from me, he says, "Relationships of this kind are... difficult."

I snort, _he definitely likes to state the obvious_, and reply, "Things could be simpler."

I see him quirk a brow at me as he drinks some rum before he says, "Simpler as in... ignoring love and loyalty?" He takes another drink and pierces me with a heavy gaze as he does so. _His eyes are captivating_. As he slowly pulls the bottle away from his lips, his tongue darts out to gather any stray droplets of rum. _No, _I think, _his lips are_. He starts speaking again, and my gaze returns to his green orbs illuminated just slightly by his ever pulsing lyrium markings. "That only leaves desire," he rumbles in a voice that makes my toes curl in my boots.

Realization dawns on my slightly fuzzy and out-of-sorts mind. Fenris is offering me something here. But do I trust him? He's a magic hating, prejudiced, former slave of a Tevinter magister. And I a mage, apostate, Enchanter, and coursing with magic from head-to-toe. I reach out to take the rum bottle from his grasp, and his fingers deliberately brush against mine. I remember then that I know that he must trust me. And... and I do. I trust him with _this_. With helping me understand. Understand what happened at the Gallows. With understanding Marian and Cullen. _I trust him_.

"Desire could be what I need."


	2. Chapter 2: Bonus

_Note: This chapter is rated M for sexual content. If you are uncomfortable with reading adult content, you should not read this chapter until after the first "..." line break._

_Additional note: This chapter kinda diverges from the original prompt, and now is uniquely its own._

~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Desire could be what I need," I say in a soft breathless voice.

His smile is devastating and dangerous as he leans forward to take the rum bottle out of my grasp. His fingers fold over mine along the bottle, and his illuminated eyes are scant millimeters from my own as he rasps, "Are you certain it is?"

He's giving me an out, a way to back out of _this_. But with his breath on my lips, and his gaze locked on mine... _Maker_, I can feel the heat radiating off his body from this distance.

"I need this," I whisper, and then his lips are on mine. They're harder, warmer, and rougher than Cullen's ever were – and a small part of my mind wonders if this is indicative of what's to come. My toes curl again at the thought.

His tongue licks at my bottom lip, and one of my hands snakes to the nape of his neck in response, to push him ever closer to my mouth. He then bites my bottom lip playfully, and I gasp at the unexpected pleasure I get from that little harsh bite. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and all wondering thoughts of that bite flee from my mind. He's far more dominant now. His tongue roughly claims my mouth, sliding and coiling with my own.

Sometime during that kiss, my eyes have closed, and when we finally part for breath, my eyes open and I see I'm on my back with him poised over me.

His lyrium markings are a little brighter now, his pulse coming a little quicker. His eyes are the darkest I've ever seen them. An odd sense of pride coils in my gut at the knowledge that I'm able to affect this man as much as I have.

I decide to be a little bolder, and lean forward to run my tongue along the pointed shell of his ear. And he growls. _Growls_, and I shiver in pleasure at the sound.

I need him. _Maker, I need him._

I wrap my legs loosely around his waist, the skirt of my robes pooling around my hips as I do so. He leans down to lick and nip at my neck, and I struggle to pull the hem of his tunic up. When I reach his arms, he leans back on his knees so I can pull the fabric off of him.

His lyrium markings are extensive. Branching vines of blue pulsing light have been carved in the planes of his chest and lower. They extenuate his muscles, and flow in thick and thin lines. Some of the thick lines are wider than my thumb in places. His face pinches as I slowly reach a hand out towards his markings. I stop just before touching them, when I hear a sharp intake of breath. He's anticipating something.

Concerned, I ask him, "Do these hurt you? When someone touches them?"

I look into his eyes, and I see the pain and fear there warring with his desire. "The edges... are sensitive to pressure."

I return my gaze to his brands, and I see his skin is slightly puckered where it meets the brands. The lyrium must have been roughly adhered to his skin, and poorly healed with magic afterwards – if at all.

"Can I try something?" I ask in a small voice and bite my lip nervously.

His eyes narrow at me. "What would you try?" And I hear the unspoken growl of _mage_.

Undeterred I say, "I think I can concentrate healing magic to my hands. I don't think it would hurt." He still looks wary, so I say, "If you don't want me to, I won't. I won't use my magic unless you're okay with it."

His expression stays the same, and he does not move as I sit up, my legs still wrapped around him. I kiss his cheek softly before I whisper, "Fenris, does it hurt every time you're with someone?" I don't know why I care so much, but I do. It's a fault of my own. I've always been too empathetic.

He looks away and murmurs after a slow exhale, "I've only... been with one after the branding... And the lyrium burned with nearly each touch." He looks back to me and tries to explain, "Armor and clothing I can ignore, but deliberate touches with pressure... I cannot."

I nod and kiss the corner of his mouth. "Can I try? And if it doesn't work, I won't touch you. I can hold onto the bed," I smirk.

He turns his head and kisses me softly with a tenderness I didn't expect from the warrior. "You can," he pauses for a breath, "use your magic."

I concentrate on thoughts of healing, kindness, and care, as I force the faint blue glow of healing magic to build in my palms and fingers. When the power and distribution of the magic is sufficient, I reach out slowly to lay the flat of my palm in the center of his chest, where the lyrium markings are most concentrated.

His eyes had pinched closed in anticipation of pain, but he does not draw a sharp breath or recoil from my touch. He _sighs_, and his eyes flutter open. He hums appreciatively and leans down to press feather-light kisses to my lips. He kisses my temple and says, "Your touch does not hurt Bethany."

My eyes widen, and I'm staring at him. I think that is the first time he has called me by name since we've escaped. A fire ignites low in my belly, and I force the blue light of healing magic all along the length of my body. I do not want to hurt him anywhere.

In return for my efforts, Fenris unbuttons the top of my robes until my chest is exposed. He tears through the fabric of my breastband, his ferocity returning with his eagerness. When his molten lips encase my nipple, I cannot help but cry out.

As Fenris occupies himself with licking, nipping, and suckling the soft skin of my breasts, I attempt to finish unbuttoning my robes. When I am finally exposed with nothing but my soaked smalls on myself, Fenris leans back to look at me. I watch him as he very slowly reaches out, and traces with the tips of his fingers down my ribs and waist to cup my hips. My legs are still crossed over his own hips.

He smirks at me as he holds my hips a little harsher and grinds himself against me. I moan as I feel his hard length tease me. Encouraged by my sounds, Fenris pulls my hips a little higher and grinds again. This time my moan is joined by a hiss of his own pleasure, when my wetness teases the top of him that has peaked out of his leggings.

He sits up, and uncrosses my ankles from his ass and quickly works to untie his leggings. He slides them down his hips and legs, and he is bear before me. _Maker, he is gorgeous. _

Besides his lyrium markings' brutal beauty, Fenris has all the unique qualities of a warrior's body. The potted, pearly, and sharp scars of many battles fought, the hard, sinewy muscles that ripple with each movement, and the taught lines of a strong frame. But unlike most warriors, unlike _Cullen_, Fenris has a deadly and dangerous grace to him that makes my mouth go dry and fire burn between my legs.

I reach for him, and he falls atop of me. We kiss, our desire for each other evident in each movement of lips, teeth, and tongue. As we kiss, he moves my smalls down my body, and I kick them off my legs. Once I am just as bare as he, Fenris moves his long fingers to the apex of my sex. I stifle my cries in his shoulder as one of his fingers enters me and begins to move. I cross my ankles over the small of his back, and rock my hips in time with his movements. When his thumb joins his finger and presses down, I cry out Fenris' name and feel myself shatter in ecstasy.

I hear Fenris growl as I regain control over myself, and I open my eyes to see him bring his wet, glistening fingers to his lips. His lyrium markings are pulsing faster, and he's glowing far brighter. And I realize so am I. As I tried to maintain the aura of healing magic encasing my body, it grew stronger as my excitement did. Magic, especially of this kind, is tightly connected with a mage's emotions.

Once his fingers are clean, Fenris bends his head to kiss me deeply again, and I can taste the salty musk of myself on his lips. He reaches between our bodies as we kiss, and positions himself at my entrance. I gasp, and my head rolls back as he thrusts to the hilt in one sharp movement. He gives me a moment to adjust, and I lift my hips when I'm ready for him to move.

The time we spend moving together in pleasure is a brilliant blur in my mind, as I'm overcome with ripples of pleasure spreading out my body with each of his thrusts. Sparks shoot down my spine when he increases his pace and lifts me by my thighs to reach ever deeper. I hear nothing but my moans, pants, and incoherent pleas and his growls, grunts, and curses in his native language until I'm crashing and shattering in millions of tiny pieces and he's following me just moments later. I nearly shatter again as I feel his warmth spread and fill the most inner depths of my body. I see the light of his lyrium markings ignite so brightly behind my closed lids, that I feel their warmth seep into my skin. As he finishes with a last few thrusts, I open my eyes and am momentarily blinded by the bright blue-white light coming from his body and the deep ocean-blue of my healing magic encasing my own. _It must have been quite a light-show when we came,_ I think.

I smirk and I comment to him, as he rolls off of me to lay by my side. "We both glow when we come."

He smiles and chuckles huskily, breathlessly, "Indeed." He turns towards me and brushes his fingers through my long, dark hair. "That was much more... pleasurable than I thought it would be."

I tilt my head and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I would never try to hurt you on purpose, Fenris."

He smiles again, "It seems that may be true."

I roll over, and try not to touch him as I feel sleep pulling me into the Fade. I cannot maintain the soothing healing magic while I sleep, and am afraid to cause him any unnecessary pain during the night.

…...

In the morning, my robe is stiff and filthy, since we laid on it during the entirety of our... _activities_. Fenris smirks at me wolfishly as he tosses me one of his tunics and a pair of his leggings. And for some reason, I am _blushing_ as I put them on. I feel so silly. _I'm going to die of embarrassment_, I think. I promise to return them, but he doesn't say anything about it, just gives me a kiss that makes me weak in the knees. I'm out the door shortly thereafter.

I'm praying to the Maker, to Andraste, to _anyone_ that no one sees me before I can get to my cabin and wash my robes.

"Sunshine." I freeze. _Maker, of course it's Varric._

I turn towards the dwarf, and try to smile despite my unease, "Good morning Varric."

The dwarf smirks at me with his knowing eyes, "Perhaps I should be saying that to you."

I blush, _dammit_. The dwarf's smirk grows wider, "Have fun last night?"

Quietly I reply, "I guess..."

The dwarf smiles kindly, "Word of advice, Sunshine, Broody might have issues, but he's a softy underneath the spiky armor."

My face feels like it's on fire, "How did you..."

He grins widely and gestures with one hand, "That is definitely Broody's tunic." And if it were possible, his grin goes wider and more mischievous. "And my room is next to his."

I am successful in washing my robes, and for the rest of the day I am trying to fight from blushing at every heated glance Fenris sends my way.

…...

When I had agreed to desire, I had no idea this is what it would be like. Every night we are together, either in my room or his, and it is so different from my time with Cullen. With Cullen, I was lucky to see him without the act of simply mage and Templar, as ourselves, maybe once a week or two if possible. With Fenris, every time we see each other, there is no act. We are who we are, although we temper ourselves in front of others.

Our nights are not only passion filled, and exploring the depths of our desire. We talk too, just as we had before. We are honest to one another, and strive for a mutual understanding. He tells me about all that has happened in his life since I was in the Gallows, and I tell him about my time in the Circle. We draw similarities to our lives, and explore our differences. He is not the mage-hating, wolfish man I had once thought he was. And he finds out there is more to me than the sweet apostate I was before my confinement.

Weeks pass, and Isabela has us stop at a shore-side town, on the smaller side, in Antiva to restock on supplies as we head towards our goal of the distant beaches of Rivain. I dress in Fenris' tunic, he has let me keep it, and a pair of Marian's trousers. We try to disguise ourselves as much as possible, and blend in. We dress as sailors. I plait my hair in a simple twist, and tie a thin, yellow scarf around my head. I apply heavy color to my eyes and lips, and I leave my staff securely in my room, as I head ashore with some of our companions. Marian and Isabela have decided that they ought to stay aboard. For Marian's safety, or so they claim.

Fenris and I decide to follow Varric and Merrill to the markets, and I am nearly overwhelmed with the stark differences of Antiva, as compared to Ferelden or Kirkwall. All the stalls and people are adorned in bright colors, although some of the paint on the poorer stalls are fading. White-gold sand from the beaches has tracked onto the smooth cobblestones of the walkways, and flags of all colors ripple in the wind with the advertisements of merchant's wares. I lean in to Fenris and whisper, "Have you been to Antiva before? I've never seen such a place."

Fenris smirks and pulls me closer to avoid a merchant's cart, or at least he makes it look like that's what he's doing, "Once before, that I remember. Although, it is not too different from the poorer districts of Minrathous. There is color, and the markets are cramped, but the streets are cleaner. And the air does not smell of fish." I laugh when he wrinkles his nose.

Merrill seems to be feeling the same kind of awe, and she practically drags me from stall-to-stall. When we arrive at a stall of colorful scarves, the merchant seems much more eager to make a sale.

"Ah. Such a pretty yellow scarf upon your head," he says to me. "But you, mi dulce, would look divine in this royal blue silk here, hmm? You have a noble look about you. Bright eyes," he gestures at my eyes. "Strong chin," he places a finger under my chin. "And a figure that would make any Orlesian maiden jealous," he laughs charmingly and feathers one hand along my hip.

I feel a blush creep up my neck and cheeks, but before I can say anything, Fenris is there with a hand on the merchant's wrist as he wrenches him off of my hip. "You would do well to keep your hands to yourself, if you want to keep them whole," Fenris growls at the man threateningly.

I'm a bit surprised by his actions, but I can see that Fenris is trying his hardest to keep his lyrium markings under control – he does not want to draw attention to us. I put a hand on his shoulder and say, "Let's go back to the ship." Fenris cuts his steely green gaze towards me as he decides, but he eventually releases the man.

The merchant rubs his wrist and he mumbles meekly, "Ah yes, mi amigo" as all four of us leave.

Varric and Merrill keep their distance as we head back, and for that I am grateful. Fenris is not himself, he's irritated beyond what's normal for him. We find a secluded spot on the ship's quarterdeck, and I turn to him as I fight back a frown. He speaks before I can, "I... should apologize. I risked the safety of our group, and forced us to return before we purchased what your sister had asked us to... I acted on impulse." He bends his head to hide his eyes behind his hair.

"It's okay," I step closer to him. I attempt to joke, "I'm just glad that merchant didn't call the guard on us, or worse the Templars."

Apparently my joke wasn't taken as such, because Fenris' head snapped up and he took one step forward to crush me to him and kiss me like a drowning man. When we pull apart for air, he speaks softly with a look of tenderness on his face and his arms wrapped around me, "No, never that. The Templars will not hurt you, Bethany."

I gasp. _He's being serious_. "What -" I start and pause to start again. "You're serious," I state. I'm at a loss for words.

He nods once and kisses my temple, "I would not let any bring harm to you."

"B-but, I thought we were ignoring loyalty and..." I trail off and I'm lost in the emotion showing through his eyes.

"I do not think they can be ignored," he states with a certainty I did not expect. "Bethany, I would protect you with my last breath, if you would allow me."

I cling to him and bury my head in his shoulder as I feel tears sting my eyes. His hands smooth down my back and he leans his head against my own in comfort. I did not expect to love again, and I do not know if that is what I'm feeling right now. But I care for this man. It is strange, and refreshing, and _different_ than anything I had with Cullen.

…...

It's another two weeks before we dock at the distant shores of Rivain. Fenris has all but told me he loves me. I think he's afraid I won't return his feelings. _Do I?_ Do I feel the same? Do I love the lyrium branded warrior?

I don't have time to think about how I feel, because Isabela is practically throwing us off of her ship. We're in a small port city, one where Isabela is sure she won't be recognized and neither will Marian.

We docked late in the afternoon, and we all crowd into the local tavern. We drink, and I dance with Marian, Merrill, and Isabela well into the evening. It's late at night by the time Fenris takes my hand and leads me out of the crowded tavern full of drunken sailors.

I stumble out of the tavern giggling and happy, and Fenris smiles and leads me down the dirt path towards the beach. We reach a part of the shoreline not occupied by bonfires, singing, or dancing and sit next to one another. I take off my boots and scoot forward to put my feet in the water, and Fenris joins me. He splashes me with his toes, and in retaliation I do the same.

I sigh and lay down in the sand and say, "It's nice to be safe, if... even if it's just for a short while."

"I promised to protect you. You will be safe," he says and leans down to kiss me. I hold on to his shoulder and deepen the kiss. I do not think he knows how much his words mean to me. _Or perhaps he does. _He seems to know more than he says.

When the kiss ends he leans his forehead against mine, and I can't help but smile. Perhaps it's the liquor, but I feel... braver. And I've had time to think about it tonight. I've had time to realize how I feel. And I want to tell him.

I snake my fingers through his silky white locks, and begin with my voice little more than a whisper, "Fenris, I," I pause to gather myself, "I love you."

His eyes widen to the size of teacups, and I struggle to hold back a giggle at the shock that crosses his face. "Are you," he swallows and scoots closer to me. "Are you certain?"

I nod, and this time I can't hold back the giggle. "Of course, you silly elf. I'm not drunk. I know. I love you Fenris." He kisses the breath from me, and we allow ourselves to be consumed by our desire for each other.

_Perhaps desire is not too far removed from loyalty and love._

…_..._


End file.
